


Sugar & Spice (and everything... nice?)

by Willow_bird



Category: All For The Game - Nora Sakavic
Genre: (but he's our favorite disastergay), (my first event!! this is so exciting!!), AFTG Exchange, AFTG Fall Exchange 2020, Andrew Minyard is a DisasterGay, Costume Party, Demisexual Neil Josten, Flirty Neil Josten, Getting Together, M/M, POV Andrew Minyard, Pining, They Wear The Same Costume, halloween party, hand holding, pretend dating
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-13
Updated: 2020-09-13
Packaged: 2021-03-06 23:21:48
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,468
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26437129
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Willow_bird/pseuds/Willow_bird
Summary: “I’m not going as Tombo.” He’d end up looking likeWhere’s Waldoif he’d been a short angry bodybuilder and no one wanted that.Renee’s little smile hinted at her having a similar visual. “I think I may have something that would require few changes to what you’re wearing now and would be minimal hassle altogether.”------Andrew accompanies Renee to a Halloween party, allowing his best friend to dictate his costume because he really couldn’t bepaidto care. Then he gets there, and yeah, his crush is wearing the exact same costume. Feelings happen.
Relationships: Allison Reynolds/Renee Walker (All For The Game), Andrew Minyard & Renee Walker, Neil Josten/Andrew Minyard
Comments: 67
Kudos: 432
Collections: AFTG Exchange Fall 2020





	Sugar & Spice (and everything... nice?)

**Author's Note:**

  * For [moonix](https://archiveofourown.org/users/moonix/gifts).



> This is for [@annawrites](https://annawrites.tumblr.com/) ~ also known as the lovely and legendary [moonix](https://archiveofourown.org/users/moonix/pseuds/moonix) for the AFTG Fall Exchange! She requested an Andreil fic with any number of fall themes that got me super excited to write all the things! The one that really jumped out at me was the idea of them both wearing the same halloween costume to a party and so they pretend to be a couple. Naturally, feelings happen too ;) 
> 
> Well this… this started out as a fluffy little thing. And it still is. But then like, feelings got involved? Which was always the intention! But like… _MORE_ feelings got involved? So It’s not _exactly_ what was requested, but I hope you like it anyway!

“If you really don’t want to go, you know I won’t force you.”

Andrew sighed. The problem with Renee was that she was always so damn reasonable, so damn genuine, and she rarely ever asked for anything even _close_ to resembling a favor. So, when she _did_ ask for something it held a lot of weight and Andrew felt compelled to go along with it -- even if it was something ridiculously stupid like going to some halloween party.

“I said I would go.” This was a slight reconstruction of the conversation, where Renee had come to him and asked if he’d go with her to the aforementioned party so that she’d have someone with her that she’d know other than the host (who’d invited her) and Andrew had likely made some sort of vague, noncommittal grunt in response. He’d followed up later by asking her when the party was, which was as good as an agreement to go coming from him, and so here they were. 

“It’s a costume party.” 

Andrew finally looked up and over at her from where he’d been proofreading an essay due the following week. Renee was dressed as a witch -- specifically, she was dressed as her favorite witch from one of their favorite movies, _Kiki’s Delivery Service_ , with the exception that she hadn’t dyed her hair nor bothered to wear a wig. Personally, Andrew thought she looked cute. The big red bow actually suited and the white-to-rainbow effect of her hair gave a unique spin to the costume. She even had a little stuffed Gigi sitting in the basket she had draped over one arm. 

“I’m not going as Tombo.” He’d end up looking like _Where’s Waldo_ if he’d been a short angry bodybuilder and no one wanted that. 

Renee’s little smile hinted at her having a similar visual. “I think I may have something that would require few changes to what you’re wearing now and would be minimal hassle altogether.” Her voice turned up in a hopeful lilt and she was smiling at him, so Andrew sighed and gave a nod, turning back to his laptop. 

“Give me just a few minutes to finish this section.” Andrew registered the hum of Renee’s understanding before he heard her leave the room. His focus was mostly back on the paper in front of him and he didn’t spare another thought for the party or whatever costume his best friend was going to shove him into. It wasn’t worth worrying over at this point. Andrew wasn’t about to go back on his promise to go, even if he wasn’t particularly feeling up to partying tonight, and he trusted Renee not to stick him in something utterly ridiculous. They were best friends for a reason, after all. A few reasons, actually -- and one of those reasons was that Renee understood Andrew’s tolerances _and_ aesthetic. 

She wouldn’t steer him wrong.

..::..::..::..::..::..

At least, that was what Andrew had _thought_.

Twenty minutes later, Andrew found himself glowering into his own reflection with a cheerful Renee beaming over his shoulder. She was _way_ too pleased with herself, and Andrew had to wonder if he had accidentally slighted her in some way. Had he eaten the last doughnut recently? Had he forgotten something important that he’d promised to do? Granted, the former was far more likely than the latter, given his penchant for sweets and near-perfect memory -- but Renee was usually pretty forgiving of Andrew’s sweet tooth, and if he _had_ forgotten something important she probably would have been more concerned than vengeful.

Andrew narrowed his eyes at her in the mirror. “Is this some sort of a joke?” he asked, voice flat, eyed dead. 

Renee just smiled serenely at him and adjusted the fox ears on his head so they were a little further back. “What? We’re the Palmetto State Foxes, right? It’s an easy costume, thematically appropriate, and I already had the fox ears lying around from the last game I went to. I bet there will be plenty of other people there with the same idea.”

Andrew wasn’t sure if that was supposed to make him feel better or not, so he just continued to glare at her. He noted that the effect was somewhat ruined by drawn-on whiskers now sprouting from his nose, marring his cheeks with flagrant disrespect for his badassery by making him out to be some kind of a fucking woodland creature. Not only that, but she’d gone the extra mile and had added a bit of eyeliner and eyeshadow around his eyes as well, making the hazel of them shine a more forceful gold. She’d used brown mascara to darken and lengthen his eyelashes and, if it weren’t for the fact that she’d dressed him as one of Snow-fucking-White’s cheerful little forest buddies, he’d think that maybe he looked pretty fucking good. 

“Look at it this way, Andrew: the ears and the makeup are the only part of your ensemble that actually make up the costume. When you get sick of it, you can just wash your face and take of the ears and _bam!_ \-- you’re you again! You can even wear the stompy boots.” 

Here, Renee looked at him imploringly. Big brown puppy eyes, bottom lip between her teeth, all but begging without saying the damned words. 

Andrew sighed. 

“Fine.”

Her face lit up and she opened her arms in silent request for a hug that Andrew granted with only a little bit of grumbling. He wasn’t an idiot, he knew that this was important to Renee. 

“I hope she’s fucking worth it, Bubbles,” he muttered as he pulled away from the embrace, using the nickname he’d given her their Freshman year. Because fuck you, _The Powerpuff Girls_ were fucking _iconic_ and Renee was both a sweetheart and a fucking badass.

Renee blushed brightly and began fussing with the makeup strewn about her vanity, putting it away. “Anyway! That should do it, so if you’re ready to go…”

Andrew caught her arm and made her look at him. He waited until she met his eyes, then he nodded. “If she hurts you I will do more than key her car.” Which was what he did to Renee’s most recent ex when he found out that the bitch had cheated on her. 

“I’m capable of standing up for myself,” Renee reminded him quietly, soothingly.

Andrew scoffed but let it go with a shrug as he stood up to head out of the room. He knew that. It was one of the reasons that Renee was his best friend. That didn’t mean he wasn’t going to step in if he thought it was necessary though, which she full well knew. 

“Hey BC?” Renee called, using his own counterpoint nickname to the one he’d given her, and Andrew paused on his way to the door, glancing over his shoulder. “Thanks.”

Andrew gave her a two finger salute, then continued on his way. His _stompy boots_ were in his closet.

..::..::..::..::..::..

The party was in full swing when they arrived, the large house stuffed full of inebriated jocks in various states of undress. This, Andrew decided after the third shirtless collegiate athlete, wasn’t necessarily a _bad_ thing. Sure, they were loud and obnoxious, but at least the show was a pretty one. It was also a group of people he was mostly unfamiliar with -- which had its pros and cons.

Cons: They were unfamiliar, and anything unfamiliar set Andrew on edge by default.

Pros: He was likely never going to have to see any of these people again after tonight, at least not where they were going to remember him. 

Renee took them in and directly toward the kitchen, familiar with the layout of the house because she’d been here many times before. After all, this was the house being currently rented out by Campus Princess Allison Reynolds for her private use while attending university. Allison Reynolds was a nuisance, but the bitch had sass and the sharp heels to back it up, Andrew had to give her that much. According to rumor that had been confirmed by Renee, Allison had been all but disowned by her family for choosing to take a contract at PSU to play college basketball with the goal of making it onto a WNBA professional basketball team by graduation. Apparently, her family didn’t think being a pro athlete fit their _image_ and Allison’s response had been a big ole’ “fuck you” to the parentals. 

“Nee-nee you made it!” squealed Basketball Barbie the second they stepped into the kitchen. Allison was dressed as a witch of an entirely different genre and he hated approving of her taste in superheroes. Scarlet Witch _was_ a fucking badass. 

Renee once accused Andrew of being disdainful of Allison solely based on the fact that she was six feet tall, and he tended to instantly dislike anyone who had more than six inches on him on principle. This, of course, was ridiculous. Allison Reynolds didn’t need to be inhumanly tall to grate on his very existence like a dull meat grinder. 

(She wasn’t entirely wrong, though. He _did_ hold a certain amount of distrust for anyone over 5’6” because he did not trust stupidity and anyone that tall was probably depriving vital blood flow to their brains due to the increased length of their arterial circuit.)

Andrew gave Renee a pointed look and mouthed: _Nee-nee?_

Renee, smiling like an idiot because her brain apparently turned to mush whenever Princess Moneybags was in the room, all but ignored him -- she just flapped a hand at him while giving most of her attention to Allison. 

“Ally! Hey, yeah! Um, sorry if we’re a little late…”

“Not at all, beautiful. Damn you look so fucking cute I could eat you up.” Allison winked, slinging her arm around Renee before pausing to give Andrew a once-over. Andrew decided he _definitely_ didn’t like the look of smug amusement on her face when she saw his ‘costume’. “You even convinced the Monster to wear a costume! I’m impressed.”

“Ally,” Renee reprimanded gently. 

Allison smoothly reassured her with a tight side-hug and something whispered in her ear that had Renee blushing and Andrew rolling his eyes even though he couldn’t make out the words. When Renee started quietly _giggling_ , Andrew decided he didn’t need to subject himself to any more of it and he excused himself without further comment. Renee could take care of herself and seeing her blushing and swooning like that was only going to make him nauseous, so he would just check in on her later. 

For now, he headed toward where he remembered the door out onto the back deck to be. He’d showed up, he’d worn the stupid ears, he’d even stood there and allowed himself to be subjected to _that_ cavity-inducing ridiculousness -- he’d earned himself a fucking cigarette. 

The deck wasn’t as packed as the inside of the house, but there were still people milling about. Andrew instantly made for the far corner of the deck that partially curved around the side of the house, away from everyone else. He was already lighting his cigarette as he rounded the corner and he closed his eyes to savor that first sharp lungful, a bit of tension already seeping from his shoulders. 

At least, it _was_ , until…

“And here I thought I was the only one.”

Andrew froze, smoke gently charring the inside of his lungs and choking him slowly from the inside. He didn’t open his eyes, he knew what he would see -- because he _knew_ that voice. That low, soft, lightly amused rasp of a voice that always seemed to carry even though Andrew had never actually heard it raised. Just the sound of it brought to mind the curve of a small smile that always edged up a little bit higher on the right side than on the left. There was a slight shadow at the apex of that smile, the suggestion of a dimple that might flash if the owner of the smile ever allowed it to fully blossom. It was a smile that he’d thought way, _way_ too much about in the last year. Fuck, it was a _mouth_ he’d thought way, way too much about in the last year. 

The burning in his chest (which was definitely, one-hundred percent only because of the smoky inhale he’d yet to release and had _nothing_ to do with the voice, nope, nothing to do with _that_ ) was getting persistent. Andrew held on for just another moment before he let it out slowly through his nose, buying himself another moment before he finally opened his eyes. 

_Fuck._

He’d been right. Of course he’d been right. But it was worse. It was _so much worse_.

Because standing there, leaning back against the railing, half covered by shadow, was Neil Josten; he was wearing exactly the kind of smile he’d known he would be, but he was _also_ wearing a set of dark red fox ears that in the dying daylight blended a little too seamlessly with his hair. The sweater he was wearing matched the color precisely, the sleeves coming down over his fingertips to hide his hands completely, and was designed with a white patch over the front that replicated the white chest and underbelly of an animal. And then there were his fucking _eyes_ , rimmed in black with lashes criminally long, practically fucking _glowing_ at him. 

It just… wasn’t… fair. Andrew was already fucking _gay_ \-- this was just _unnecessary_. 

Still, because he was determined to at least _act_ completely unaffected, Andrew gave an indifferent shrug and took another drag of his cigarette. He blew the smoke out in Neil’s direction and ignored the way the idiot closed his eyes as it hit him, a smile still on his face, unbothered -- like the fucking asshole that he was. 

“So who dressed you up then?” Andrew finally asked as he, too, moved to lean against the railing. Neil held his hand out for a cigarette, just his fingertips poking out beneath the sleeve now, and Andrew definitely felt _nothing_ when their fingers brushed as he passed one over. He also definitely didn’t watch the way the glow from his lighter cast shadows over the idiot’s face when he leaned in to light it. The soft curls of smoke gently flowing out between his parted lips after that ember-sparking breath did nothing to his chest, his stomach, or his cock, thank you. Nothing at all. 

“What makes you think someone dressed me up?” Neil asked as he leaned back, now just holding the cigarette up close enough for him to smell the smoke rather than… you know, actually _smoking_ the damn thing like a normal person. 

Andrew rolled his eyes. “Are you attempting to tell me you put on the fox ears yourself, along with a matching sweater and jeans that fit?” It was the fitted jeans that really gave it away -- not that Andrew regularly noticed the cut of Neil’s jeans. Because he didn’t. Ever.

Neil laughed, the sound quiet and slightly husky. Andrew wondered what the sound would feel like buzzing against his lips, then immediately shut that thought down with another drag from his cigarette that was aggressive enough his throat tightened on the impulse to cough. He did _not_ allow himself to do so. He did have _some_ fucking dignity. 

“Fair enough. It was a bit of a collective effort of Matt and Dan’s to be honest. What do you think, do I look alright?” He pushed away from the railing and lifted his arms, giving a slow turn. Andrew absolutely did _not_ check out how those jeans fit his ass. Nope. Not even a glance. Because he didn’t care. At all. 

“You look like a loser,” Andrew snorted before taking another (more careful) drag of his cigarette. 

Neil’s smile was too knowing and Andrew glared at him. 

“Guess we get to be losers together then.” Andrew rolled his eyes but Neil wasn’t done. “You do look good though… just saying. Your eyes, I mean. They… well, you look good.”

Andrew looked over at the other boy, studying the profile of his face because of course Neil wasn’t looking at him. But it looked, almost, like he was blushing. Andrew didn’t want to have an opinion on Neil blushing, so he quickly looked away. 

“Renee had me cornered,” he deadpanned before taking another slow drag. He pointedly ignored the gay little idiot in his head half-swooning because _Neil Josten likes his eyes_. Jesus fucking Christ. He needed an intervention. 

“Pass on the compliments for me, then?” Neil asked, and Andrew could _hear_ the smile in voice, the brat. 

“Tell her yourself.” Andrew shrugged and stubbed out the rest of his cigarette. He hated those last couple of drags before the ember hit the filter; it always tasted weirdly stale. 

Neil was openly grinning at him now, head tilted and eyes dancing with a brand of mischief unique to this particular nuisance. Andrew wasn’t even looking at him head-on and he could still recognize that _look_ out of the corner of his eye. 

“You want me to thank Renee for making you hotter than usual?”

Andrew coughed on air, face heating so instantaneously he knew for a fact he was blushing but there was absolutely nothing he could do about it. “No one the fuck said the fuck that fuck?” he managed to choke out over the sound of the brat’s low, amused laugh. 

“I mean, I can. Where’s she at?” Neil stubbed out his cigarette and flicked it into the bucket nearby being used as a trash can before pushing away from the rail and stepping around the corner. Andrew coughed and almost tripped as he hurried to follow him. 

“You are a fucking menace did you know that?” he halfway growled as he caught up with him. “How the fuck does anyone put up with you?”

He wasn’t sure what Neil’s response would have been, because at that moment the other boy suddenly froze up, his eyes going wide in recognizable panic. On high alert, Andrew moved without thinking, stepping in front of Neil and scanning the crowd on the deck for any obvious threats. Nothing stuck out at him until:

“Neil!” Marissa Schmidt, one of the cheerleaders that Andrew _only_ knew because she was close friends with Katelyn, his brother’s girlfriend, was moving toward them with a sharp-toothed smile and the spark of insanity in her eyes. She was already partially reaching out, her fingers partway curled into a gleeful little claw like she was going to latch onto Neil and not let go. 

“Oh shit, fuck, she found me,” Neil hissed from behind him and understanding clicked.

And then.

Then Andrew had the stupidest, most brilliant idea he’d ever had. He turned his head just enough to meet Neil’s eyes and murmured, “Do you trust me?”

Neil didn’t even hesitate (which Andrew would obsess about later). He only said: “Yes.”

Andrew gave a solemn nod and then directed his gaze down, where he was subtly holding out his hand. Neil followed his gaze and paused. Eternal blue trapped him for a weighted moment, like Neil was double-checking what he was offering, before that mouth curved into the softest, smallest smile and he felt long, calloused fingers wind around his own. 

Traitorous fucking bastard that it was, his heart absolutely did an actual, _physical_ little skip in his chest. Andrew ignored it and instead gave Neil’s hand a small squeeze before fixing a dry, bored expression on his face and looked forward to face ~~his rival~~ the annoyance.

Marissa had stopped only a couple feet away from them, far too close for his taste, but he didn’t challenge it just yet. Instead, he just _waited_. When she came to a stop and smiled at him expectantly, he said nothing, he let the silence stretch to awkward and her smile fade while he gave his own empty, judging stare. 

Finally, when she apparently couldn’t take it anymore, she gave a little cough and put on a smile again, looking from Andrew to Neil, where her gaze settled. “Hey! I’m glad I found you again! Where’d you run off to?” There was an unattractive little whine in her voice, her mouth doing a puffy, pouty thing that made Andrew want to roll his eyes. 

“Uh, why do you care?” Neil asked, and Marissa fucking _tittered_. Yeah. _Tittered_. Ugh. 

“You’re so funny, Neil!” She took another step closer. This time, _Neil_ squeezed _his_ hand and Andrew thought maybe his heart did a backflip. But he was cool. So cool. Totally cool.

“I’m really… not?” Now the poor idiot was just _confused_ and Andrew had had enough. 

He cleared his throat, and Marissa finally looked at him. He saw the flash of annoyance in her eyes and the slight strain in her smile and responded with a raised brow. “What did you want?” he asked bluntly.

Now she looked _distinctly_ annoyed. “To spend some time with _Neil_ , obviously. I don’t see how it’s _your_ business, _Andrew_.” She said his name like it was supposed to be some kind of insult. 

This time, Andrew _did_ roll his eyes. He lifted his and Neil’s joined hands. “It _is_ my business because it is really fucking annoying when girls keep trying to get into my boyfriend’s pants. Especially when I finally got him into a pair that fit.” Neil, because he was an instigative little shit or maybe because he was hoping to give Andrew an actual heart attack by the end of the night, squeezed his hand again and then _beamed_ at him with a little hip check. His lungs had joined his heart in a series of spastic, celebratory jumping jacks. 

Marissa blinked, then her mouth fell open and she looked between the two of them. She pointed a finger at him, then at Neil, then at him again, then at Neil.

Slowly, and with a heavy dose of condescension, Neil asked, “Haven’t you ever heard of couples costumes before.” Then he gestured at his and Andrew’s matching fox ears. 

“Wait. What? No.”

“No? You haven’t heard of couples costumes? How sad for you. See, when two people are together and are invited to a costume party, a lot of times they will--”

“I know what couples costumes are,” Marissa snapped. Maybe she was starting to see that Neil was an asshole and she’d finally leave him alone. Too bad for Andrew that he found the other boy’s attitude problem (and the mouth that housed it) _way_ too attractive to be dissuaded that easily. 

“I _meant_ ,” Marissa continued, narrowing her eyes suspiciously between the two of them, “is that you can’t possibly be with Andrew.”

Before Andrew even had time to wonder if it was just bad acting on their part or her prejudices showing, Neil leaned forward a little bit and cocked his head to the side. It was a look that was as dangerous as it was fucking adorable, especially with those _ears_ \-- fuck, was he becoming a furry? Was he furry for Neil Josten? Jesus Christ this boy was going to give him a complex.

“Pretty sure that’s not up to you,” Neil hummed, faux-thoughtful in his mockery. 

“But… but you’re not _gay!_ ” she accused, her eyes wide and focused on Neil.

Neil shrugged. “No,” he agreed and Andrew felt himself stiffen. There was a brush over his hand and when he looked down he saw that Neil was rubbing his thumb against his skin in a… soothing gesture? What?

“But my sexuality isn’t really any of your business, is it? The only one I want is Andrew -- which, really, isn’t any of your business either, but I’m being more courteous than you deserve and am giving you some extra info because you can’t seem to take a hint. I’m not interested in you. Now, if you’d be so kind -- I would like you to fucking _go away._ ” 

He paused, then turned to Andrew, his brows drawn together plaintively. “I mean, I asked nicely?” Andrew just blinked at him. His brain was still tripping over the gentle brush of a calloused thumb against the back of his hand and the lightest press of Neil’s arm to his. The actual _words_ that had been said in the intervening moments were taking a bit longer to process. As they did, the flutter in his chest grew to the point where he was beginning to feel a bit lightheaded and it was taking _effort_ not to grin like an absolute _idiot_. 

Instead, he looked from Neil to the shocked, affronted girl before them and just _smirked_. Never in his life had he felt more fucking _smug_ and it was _great_.

(He pointedly did not think about how this was all a charade and that Neil was not _actually_ his boyfriend and that he was probably just as pathetic as Marissa.)

“I think ‘asked nicely’ is a bit of an overstatement, but you tried babe. Kudos.”

Neil smiled at him, all mischief and affection, and Andrew felt very gay about it. 

Marissa, being inferior in every way, apparently did not. She spluttered and scoffed, drawing their attention before she pinned them both with a vicious glare. “Whatever,” she said profoundly. She started to go a little pink when Neil lifted his free hand and made a little shooing motion, but she didn’t attempt to protest. Instead, she made a tight, affronted sound and whirled on her heels, stalking away. 

Andrew looked back over at Neil to find that the other boy was looking at him again, and something about the way his mouth was quirked and the light was hitting his eyes had his heart doing a little flip-flop in his chest. Maybe he should get that checked out. 

“Staring,” he accused dryly to cover up any feeling that might have accidentally popped out. 

“Yes,” Neil agreed with that little twitch at the corner of his mouth.

“Any particular reason?” Andrew pressed after a beat when Neil failed to elaborate. 

The other boy just shrugged. “I like looking at you.”

Andrew’s brain did a thing where it just kinda stopped working. White noise suddenly filled the space between his ears and he stared dumbly across at Neil for a solid minute. When he was finally capable of putting words together again, all he could think of to say was: “I need a drink.” Boy, did he fucking ever. A whole bottle would be nice. With a fucking straw. 

Neil nodded, and that was when Andrew realized that they were still holding hands -- because Neil didn’t let go as he gently tugged him toward the house. Andrew floated along beside him, halfway wondering if he’d gotten sucked into an alternate dimension or something. Here he was at a party, dressed like a fox, holding hands with Neil Josten, who was also dressed like a fox. Neil’s hand was warm and solid in his own, and Andrew couldn’t help but curl his fingers just a _little_ bit tighter around his palm as they slipped past a drunk Dr. Evil taking up most of the doorway on their way into the kitchen. 

Only when they’d arrived at their destination did Neil let go of his hand, moving to a cooler where cans of soda were chilling in ice. Andrew did _not_ watch his ass as he bent over to dig around for his selection, so he did _not_ have to tear his eyes away at the last possible second before Neil stood up to avoid getting caught. He was definitely already in the process of making himself a drink (of the actually alcoholic variety) when Neil stood and turned around, and he still felt the weight of the other’s gaze. 

Against his will, Neil’s words from before started echoing unhelpfully in his head:

_’The only one I want is Andrew…’_

He overfilled his cup and cursed as he hurriedly set down the bottle he’d been pouring from and reached for some paper towels to clean up the mess. 

As he cleaned up he heard the snap and hiss of a can being opened, then Neil settled into his field of vision, leaning back against the counter. He was staring again, Andrew could _feel_ it like a blanket around his shoulders. It was an infuriating sort of weight because Andrew’s stupid insides couldn’t seem to decide whether they wanted to soothe and calm and cuddle up under the shelter of feeling so… _known_ \-- or if they wanted to set fires and rampage in rebellious affront, because how-the-fuck- _dare_ this beautiful boy give him all these… ugh… _feelings?_

Andrew occupied himself for a whole minute, simmering and sipping his drink and basking and trying to convince himself that he could _totally_ pretend he was unaffected, before he finally broke and turned to look at Neil again. 

“What exactly is so fascinating?” he asked in as dry a tone as he could muster. 

Neil hummed and cocked his head and Andrew felt the scan of his gaze like a kiss against his pulse. His expression was thoughtful, and when he spoke his lips were quirked up on one side in an odd expression that Andrew wondered if anyone else realized was a smile. 

He did _not_ expect Neil to say: “I like you.”

And so, like the totally suave badass that he was, he choked on his drink. Then he glared, heavily, scowling at the other boy because his face didn’t really know what to do when his heart and lungs were battling between ‘ _ohmygod ohmygod ohmygod! HE. LIKES. ME!?_ ’ and ‘ _how fucking DARE this brat FEEL things in my general DIRECTION, that SONOFABITCH_ ’. Then, of course, aforementioned _brat_ had the gall to look fucking _amused_ , smiling around a sip of his soda, those blue blue _blue_ eyes never leaving Andrew’s face. 

“The fuck is that supposed to mean?” he rasped out, throat still burning from the mix of booze and, ugh, _feelings_.

Neil shrugged.

Andrew stared at him, and equilibrium began to return with a wave of all-too-familiar annoyance mixed with sexual frustration as he realized that Neil wasn’t going to elaborate. 

He should let it go. This was the part of the conversation where he rolled his eyes, called him an idiot, and returned to his drink. Then they’d either head back outside or maybe Neil would wander off on his own and meet up with his other friends while Andrew sought out solitude or Renee. That was how it _should_ play out -- because Neil couldn’t possibly mean it in the way that it sounded like he meant it. Andrew wasn’t _shy_ \-- if he’d had any inkling that Neil reciprocated his interest he would have made a move by now, especially since he’d wanted the auburn-haired boy since the first time he ever saw him. As weeks turned into months and their friendship developed, Andrew had been _paying attention_ , ready to act at any sign of interest -- but it had quickly become clear that Neil just… wasn’t interested. That was fine, really. The _problem_ was that instead of Andrew’s attraction fading as their platonic relationship settled, it had turned into fucking _pining_ and just… ugh. It had gotten so bad that there were even times in the last couple of months where he’d thought that maybe… but no. If Neil was attracted to him, he’d know -- and besides, he’d even said _tonight_ , right in front of him, that he wasn’t gay. 

So, yeah -- he should have let it go. 

Instead, he asked: “Why?”

Neil studied him, meeting his eyes and keeping their gazes locked, like he was seeing so much more than what was right in front of him. Or maybe like he was actually seeing _all_ that was in front of him, things even Andrew didn’t know was laid bare to the boy before him. 

Then he said:

“The world feels calm when you’re around. Even when it’s fucked up, even when it’s moving too fast, even when it’s out of my control -- when you’re there…” Neil shrugged and finally flicked his gaze away. He was now looking at the can of soda in his hand, the thumb of one hand flicking the tab over and over again. “When you’re there, I can somehow remember that the fucked up parts and the fast parts and the out-of-my-control parts aren’t all there is. You’re steady, strong. I like that. You could hold up the world -- you _do_ hold up the world sometimes, even when you get no credit for it. You’re at once an asshole and one of the kindest people I know.”

Neil looked over at him again, and Andrew’s brain -- which was already malfunctioning, attempting to actually understand the words coming out of the other boy’s mouth -- stopped all together. It just whirred and fritzed and stalled out, all synapses firing off at once then leaving him in a breathless, cushioned stillness. 

Because Neil’s _smile_ and his _eyes_ and the tilt of his head and the way he was nibbling the lower corner of his mouth. 

“You’re beautiful.”

It took a moment for Andrew to realize that _Neil_ was saying those words to _him_ because the same line was running on repeat in his own head along with a hundred different flashes of blue eyes and soft smiles and the long line the other boy’s neck. 

“What?” he demanded -- but it came out barely above a whisper, a bit dazed.

“Did you know that your eyes change color? Sometimes they’re so gold you seem unreal. Like you’ve captured the essence of the sun and kept it inside you. And sometimes, they’re so dark they almost look like true brown until you look closer -- then you can see that they’re actually amber. And sometimes they’re a light honey with dashes of brown. I’m always wondering what color I’ll see next. And I… I’ve never really cared much about color before.” Neil’s voice was soft and it was filled… it was _filled_. There were layers there that Andrew couldn’t even begin to take apart -- but he _wanted_ to. Wanted with a depth he wasn’t sure he’d ever wanted anything before. 

Andrew took a breath. “Neil?” He had to know what the fuck this was, what was happening. “Why are you saying all this?”

Neil fidgeted with his pop tab again, stalling, but Andrew couldn’t wait. So he reached out and pulled the soda out of the other boy’s hands, and Neil let him. After he set down both of their drinks he reached out to him again and this time took his chin in hand, gripping it lightly and making the other boy look at him -- and Neil let him do that too. 

He didn’t tense at the touch, he _leaned into it_ \-- and Andrew’s chest tightened and expanded at the exact same time, at once too big for his skin and too small for everything sheltered inside it. 

“Neil,” he said again. 

“You asked,” Neil finally responded, and gave a tiny shrug without trying to pull his face away. 

Andrew frowned at him. 

“You are not gay,” he confirmed. It wasn’t a question -- he was stating a fact. When Neil gave a nod, he pressed further with, “You do not like men.” Because he didn’t think Neil was bisexual either. Again -- he’d been… _crushing_... on Neil for a long time now. If there had been any inkling of Neil swinging his way, Andrew would have seen it. He’d have known.

“I don’t,” Neil agreed. 

“So what is this?” Andrew demanded, and his voice was a growl now. Hope and confusion and a million other things were building up inside his chest, crushing his lungs and crowding his heart. 

“I meant what I said, before. You… it’s only you.” Neil licked his lips and Andrew traced the motion with his eyes without meaning to. “It was confusing, at first. When I realized things had… changed. Have you heard of demisexuality?”

And Neil’s voice just then… it was _vulnerable_ in a way that Andrew had never heard it before but at the same time recognized intimately. He remembered being fourteen and guarded, scared and uncertain as he came out to his mother after a full year coming to terms with his sexuality with his therapist. He’d _known_ that his mom would understand. He’d _known_ she wouldn’t reject him. That she would love him and support him in every way. Andrew doubted many things in this world, but Betsy Dobson was not one of them. Even knowing that, it had _still_ been difficult for him. 

It had been a massive show of trust then, and he knew that right now, with Neil, it was the same. 

The world was holding its breath -- or maybe that was Andrew, or maybe it was Neil.

(Or maybe that was the same thing either way.)

Andrew rubbed his thumb along Neil’s jaw and, because he was paying attention -- because he was _always_ paying attention to Neil-fucking-Josten -- he noticed the shiver it caused. 

“Yes,” he finally said, answering Neil’s question. “I know what it is.”

Neil swallowed and gave a small nod, the motion so faint it barely disturbed the grip Andrew maintained on his chin. “Is that okay?” he asked quietly. The vulnerability was still there, but his tone was calm and serious, like he was preparing himself for a truth he might not like but knew he would have to accept. “Are we okay?” he asked -- like he had absolutely no idea exactly how reciprocated his admitted attraction was. 

Andrew blinked, then he huffed out an amused, frustrated breath. “You are an idiot.”

Neil stiffened and Andrew tightened his grip before the other boy could pull away. 

“Neil.” He kept his own tone even, and he had _meant_ for it to be impassive, but even he could hear the way it rumbled out past his lips with too many unsaid things. 

“Andrew?” And there was Neil, uncertain and yet slightly breathless. When had they gotten so close? Andrew could see the moment Neil’s pupil’s dilated. He was able to watch the short, quick flick when those blue eyes broke away from his own to dart down to his lips and back again. 

“I want to kiss you. Yes or no?”

“ _Yes,_ ” Neil breathed, even as his eyes widened. Andrew gave him a moment, just a beat, to change his mind, then he leaned in and pressed their lips together. The hand holding onto the other boy’s chin relaxed and stroked up the line of his jaw to cup his cheek and he felt Neil’s responding shiver from his fingertips all the way down to his toes. He tasted his sigh and it was sweet like candy on his tongue. 

Kissing Neil was everything and nothing like what he’d thought it would be, and once he’d sampled it he needed _more_. Apparently, Neil felt the same, because he was leaning forward the second Andrew broke away for a breath, chasing the kiss. Pleased, Andrew hummed and rewarded him with another, and then another. 

“Guys, really? I mean, about fucking time -- but do you have to do this in front of the booze?” The voice was exasperated and annoyed, and Andrew growled against Neil’s lips at the interruption before pulling away. He dropped his hand from Neil’s face but wrapped the other around the other boy’s waist, lightly at first but tighter when Neil leaned into him, unwilling to let him get too far just yet. Together, they glared at Captain Nuisance -- Kevin Day. 

“Have a soda, _Blossom_ , it’s not going to kill you.”

Kevin made an aggrieved face. “I hate that you insist on calling me that.”

Beside him, Neil stiffened, then started shaking, and when Andrew looked at him he saw those blue eyes dancing and the most beautiful grin spreading across his face, half-hidden behind a hand before he lost all countenance of control and burst into bright, effervescent laughter. It was the singularly most captivating sound Andrew had ever heard and he was struck a little stupid with the music of it. 

“Oh… fuck! Yes! He is! That’s so…!” He blathered between gasps and cackles.

Kevin scowled, rolling his shoulders back and lifting his chin as he stepped forward and reached around them to get the booze he was after. 

“Ahh,” Neil sighed, wiping his eyes as he caught his breath and just _beamed_ , looking from Andrew to Kevin and back again. “I need to know the origin of this. More than I have ever needed to know anything ever, in my entire life.”

“Well,” Andrew began, because he would of course give Neil anything he wanted if he’d just keep smiling at him like that.

“ _No,_ ” Kevin interrupted, pointing a finger at him. 

Andrew just gave him a sharp, mean smirk. “You see, Kevin was brooding--”

“I was not!”

“--and he came over to mine and Renee’s place at the end of fall semester last year. He got incredibly drunk and was whining about how he was left out of everything and nobody wanted to be his friend--”

“Stop making me sound so pathetic!” Kevin whined, pathetically.

“You _are_ pathetic,” Neil assured him, amused. 

“--and Cartoon Network happened to be on. They were playing reruns of the original PowerPuff Girls. So Kevin latches on and insists--”

“Do _not_ make this all out to be _my_ idea,” Kevin growled, _his hands on his hips_.

“--he _insists_ that from henceforth--”

“I did NOT say ‘henceforth’.”

“--he _specifically_ used the word ‘henceforth’. He insists that _from henceforth_ we were going to be as close and wonderful and powerful as the PowerPuff Girls. He had a whole speech about sisterhood and friendship that I really should have taped. It was truly inspiring.”

Neil was grinning, open-mouthed, like this was the best moment of his life and Andrew _may_ have preened a little bit. 

“This is amazing,” Neil breathed, then turned his vicious little smirk on Kevin and -- yup, Andrew still felt very gay about it. Gayer, even, now that he’d sampled what his expressions could taste like. He wanted to sample this one, too. 

“So you’re Blossom,” Neil said to Kevin. “Because you’re bossy.”

“I was the one who _brought us together_. Of course I would be the leader,” argued Kevin. Then he winced, realizing that he really wasn’t helping himself. 

Neil looked positively _delighted_ and Andrew felt a little bit drunk watching him, giddy just by proximity. “Uh-huh. Bossy.” Then he looked at Andrew. “You must be Buttercup.”

Andrew nodded, because fuck yes, Buttercup was a Badass Bitch. “Renee calls me BC.”

“And Renee is Bubbles. Because she’s sweet but will cut you.” 

“Exactly,” Andrew agreed with a nod. 

Neil hummed thoughtfully, then he smiled at him, his expression thoughtful. “You know, she isn’t the only one who is sweet though.”

“Oh?” Andrew kept his tone flat, the implication that _he_ was sweet (because it obviously couldn’t be Kevin) so utterly ridiculous he almost laughed. 

“Mhm, I mean with how much sugar you eat...” Neil laughed and dodged as Andrew rolled his eyes and went to flick him. 

“It’s better than all that spicy shit you’re always adding extra red pepper flakes too,” he chided.

“Hey, I just appreciate _flavor_.”

“You mean you’ve lost your _sense_ of flavor, because you’ve burned your taste buds off.” Andrew scoffed. Then he raised a brow at the sudden grin that spread across Neil’s lips. “What?”

“Well, I guess, it’s kinda fitting, isn’t it?”

“What?”

“Sugar--” he pointed at Andrew “--and spice--” he pointed to himself “--and… everything nice--” now he tugged lightly on Andrew’s shirt, his gaze flicking to his lips and back up again.

“You are so stupid,” Andrew said, but even he could hear the affection in his voice. 

“Yeah,” Neil agreed. And then he smiled.

Just like that, Andrew wanted to kiss him again -- and so... he did. He tugged him closer, looked from his eyes to his lips and back again, and when Neil smiled and leaned in, Andrew closed the distance and captured that delighted little smile with his own lips. He sampled him with a dart of tongue and a nibble of his teeth, and Neil _purred_ as he melted in his arms. There was the lightest touch of fingertips against his shirt, testing, and when Andrew pulled him closer without breaking the kiss a warm palm settled more confidently against his chest. 

Andrew’s free hand found its way to the side of Neil’s face again. He liked being able to feel his cheek pull in a smile, the small divot of a dimple, the tremble in his jaw as Andrew kissed.

So Andrew kissed him. He kissed him without reservation. And Neil? 

_Neil kissed him back._


End file.
